


everywhere i look i see polka dots

by honey_butter



Category: Dimension 20 (Web Series)
Genre: Mild Sexual Content, Multi, Slight Voyeurism, Tea, its deeply obvious how much i love ricky and esther, listen its not super raunchy it just kind of is, literally have no clue what to tag for this one, shout out to pete the plug for helping me accept that im transmasc, uhhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:34:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29722152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honey_butter/pseuds/honey_butter
Summary: Pete’s eyes catch on another picture that’s not in the collage, set up in its own frame on the countertop itself. Ricky’s got his arms wrapped around Pete’s middle, lifting him up to throw him into the oncoming waves. Esther’s face is immortalized in a shriek of laughter, splashing water at both them and the camera. It makes Pete’s heart hurt, it makes the headache from last night come back in full force. What makes that picture special? What makes him special enough to be included?Darjeeling, HGTV, and a confession.
Relationships: Pete Conlan | Pete the Plug/Ricky Matsui/Esther Sinclair, Ricky Matsui/Esther Sinclair
Comments: 6
Kudos: 33





	everywhere i look i see polka dots

**Author's Note:**

> pete and ricky are two different flavors of the best kind of gender euphoria and i love women so esther is,,,, yes. anyway. i don't really have an excuse for this i just care about them.
> 
> there is some discussion of magical transitioning (pete has a dick although no explicit dick action actually happens in the fic), and there's one very brief mention of pete's past drug use.
> 
> the title is from ladybug by the altogether, please listen to that song if you haven't it's just,,, them. really that whole album is very tuc but anyway i digress.

“Tea or coffee?” Esther is sipping from her own steaming mug, wincing a little at the heat or maybe just wincing at the look on Pete’s face.

He’d spent nearly an hour loitering outside of their apartment building, flipping a coin between his fingers and debating whether or not he was really going to do this. A couple of people Pete didn’t recognize from the building gave him weird looks, and a couple he knew offered to let him in, and it wasn’t until he checked his watch and realized Ricky would probably be getting home soon that he bit the bullet and asked Esther to buzz him up. Pete’s fine with strangers judging him for having an existential crisis at nine a.m. on a Saturday, he’s not okay with Ricky catching him having one. He’d be too nice and it would just make this whole thing worse.

“Tea. If that’s okay.” Pete’s still flipping his coin back and forth, turning it over and over between his fingers. It’s not as satisfying as the feeling of something rolled and meant for smoking, but it’s keeping his jittery hands busy, keeping his brain focused on the tactile rather than just the emotional.

For a long moment, Esther watches him with an expression he can’t parse, before she nods and turns around, busying herself with the electric kettle. “How’s the bookstore doing?”

“Oh, you know. Good.”

“And Nod?”

“Also good. Fine.” 

Pete sighs and steps further into the kitchen. There’s a little embroidered symbol for the occult society hanging from their wall, with Kingston’s initials stitched lovingly into the corner. The wall over their counter is covered with a collage of framed photos from a trip the whole group had taken to the beach in the interim between adventures—Pete and Sofia eating ice cream in foldout chairs, Kingston looking uncomfortable surrounded by seagulls, a selfie of Esther licking the side of Ricky’s face, and one shot of everyone standing in the waves that they’d tried to be serious for but Sofia cracked a joke at the last second, leaving them all doubled over with laughter. 

Pete’s eyes catch on another picture from that trip that’s not in the collage, set up in its own frame on the countertop itself. Ricky’s got his arms wrapped around Pete’s middle, lifting him up to throw him into the oncoming waves. Esther’s face is immortalized in a shriek of laughter, splashing water at both them and the camera. It makes Pete’s heart hurt, it makes the headache from last night come back in full force. What makes that picture special? What makes him special enough to be included?

The electric kettle beeps.

“We’ve got some black teas, uh, a few herbal ones…” Esther makes a face at that, “Actually, no, don’t have the herbal ones, they’re gross. Does Darjeeling sound okay?”

“Great.”

She shoots him another look, and he gets stuck on the quirk of her brows, on the curve of her lips. He shakes the thought out of his head and flips his coin again. “Are you okay, Pete? You’re looking a little… sweaty.”

“I’m fine.”

“Well, Ricky should be here in a few minutes and you know he’ll be able to see right through that if you aren’t.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

She passes the mug over, and their hands brush slightly. Pete curses the pre-teen beating of his heart. Esther wraps her hand around his bicep, pulling him over to the couch and tugging him down beside her. Pete has to use a little bit of magic in order to keep his tea balanced, and it fizzles and sparks around his fingers.

“Grab that throw, will you?” Esther asks, tucking her feet up and burrowing herself against his chest, nearly sitting in his lap.

Pete reaches behind him, only sort of burning his leg on his mug, and pulls a blanket off the back of the couch, spreading it over them with his free hand.

“You’re being really quiet today,” she says, the rumble echoing in his chest where her head is pressed up against him.

“I’m… yeah.”

“Do you have something that’s bothering you? Something you want to talk about?”

Pete’s coin is in his pocket now and he’s got the hand that isn’t in danger of a first degree burn buried in Esther’s hair, keeping her head close to him because he’s weak. “I wanted to wait until Ricky got here.”

Esther hums, grabbing the remote and putting HGTV on low in the background. People with thick Southern accents are making furniture and talking about their baby back home, and something warm and sticky fills Pete up, from the bottom of his stomach to the top of his chest.

“We’ll be okay, Pete. Whatever you have to talk about, it’ll be okay.”

Pete just massages his fingers against Esther’s scalp and watches as houses with years and years of history get reborn. They aren’t better because they’re new, they’re just… different. Just as good, just as important to the people who will call them home. Something new doesn’t have to be worse or better, it can just be.

Ricky isn’t a loud guy, but he also isn’t quiet, and the door creaks and his keys jingle in the lock and his footsteps hit tiredly against the floor. Pete knew he had a forty-eight hour shift because they were understaffed this week, knew because Ricky had stopped by the bookstore on his way to work and told him, leaning across the counter and filling Pete’s nose with the smell of his aftershave.

Rounding the corner of the chair dividing the door area and living space, Ricky drags a hand over his eyes, rubbing them roughly, and Pete can’t help but track the movement, watching the ripple of muscle in Ricky’s forearms and neck as he moves. He sips quickly at his tea, hoping to fix the sudden dryness in his mouth.

“Hey, baby,” Esther says, not moving from her position against Pete. “Kettle’s hot.”

Ricky looks at them for the first time since entering the apartment, and something lights up in his eyes. Ricky Matsui is a golden retriever of a human, always happy to meet people, always happy to help, but the look he gets when he sees Esther (and when he sees Pete) is enough to melt anyone into a pile of mush.

He puts his bag down on the floor and sits in the only space still available on the couch, pressed up flush against Pete’s back and side. Pete can’t help but twitch, slightly, as Ricky’s breath ghosts over the shell of his ear. 

“You guys started TV time without me.” He’s not pouting because Ricky Matsui doesn’t pout, but he’s teasing a little bit and Pete has to use all of his energy to suppress another shiver. “What kind of tea do you have, Pete?”

“Darjeeling.”

“Mind if I—” Ricky takes the mug out of Pete’s white-knuckled fingers, and he can’t see him but he can hear the way Ricky’s throat works as he swallows. “You over steeped it.”

“No such thing,” Esther says.

Ricky’s hand worms its way around Pete’s back, poking Esther on the cheek, “Not all of us have a caffeine addiction.”

“Actually, most of America does and you are _definitely_ not excluded from that number.”

Pete laughs, and he can’t help the way his head tips back into the curve of Ricky’s shoulder.

“How was work?” Esther asks, after a lull in the conversation.

“Oh, it was good! I missed you, though.” Pete tries, he really does, but Ricky’s words make the warmth in Pete’s gut sour a little. Esther is Ricky’s girlfriend, they _live_ together, it makes sense that he would say that to her and not Pete. It makes more sense, honestly, than the sick feeling Pete’s fighting. “And you, Pete. I missed you too.” By now, Ricky has returned Pete’s mug and uses that arm to curl across Pete’s chest and tug him closer. _Fuck._

Pete’s heart might just burst out of his chest, it might take off and run far, far away like his legs are itching to. But he’s gotten better at fighting that feeling, and it’s no longer a practical response because his emergency kit with his passport and cash is still stashed in Kingston’s bookshelf after he didn’t take it when he moved out.

The show switches to a commercial and Esther mutes the TV, pushing herself a little ways away so she can look at them. “Pete had something he wanted to tell us.”

If he ran, he could probably make it to the window before either of them had a chance to react, maybe see if he could use fly to get out quicker. Or, Ricky would feel him tense up to make a break for it and grapple him, which, shit, stop thinking about that. Thinking about Ricky pinning him against the couch is probably _not_ the right tone for this conversation.

“Yeah, I, uh. So.” Pete had practiced a little speech, had rehearsed it to one of his roommates who was both too drunk and too tired to escape, but he can’t remember what the first line is supposed to be and he can feel Ricky breathing against his back and Esther is watching him in such a way that her shirt is riding down in the front and it’s also probably not a good idea to be staring at her boobs while they do this. Reminding himself not to stare at her boobs has the opposite effect, though, which is… so distracting. Pete gulps.

Ricky’s hand begins to skim along Pete’s chest, rubbing soothing circles into his skin through his shirt. Esther reaches out and moves their mugs to the table.

“Do you guys remember, uh, when I stayed over a few weeks ago?” It’s a long shot, because Pete stays over pretty frequently and it wasn’t even the most recent time, and also, _shit,_ he wasn’t supposed to mention this. “We were watching that action movie, and I slept on the chair?”

“Yeah,” Esther says, shifting to bend even closer to him which does not help the boob situation.

“Well, I kinda… woke up.”

It had been dark, everything washed in a kind of bluish gray that only exists at two a.m. Pete fell asleep about thirty minutes into the movie. He was supposed to take the couch after Ricky and Esther went to bed and his neck was tilted at an odd angle but he hadn’t been sleeping well and something about having Ricky and Esther nearby made everything just safe enough to doze off.

He’d awoken, though, to the _shush shush_ sounds of clothing and skin against each other and muffled panting coming from the couch. As he blinked sleep from his eyes, he saw Esther straddling Ricky, her sleep shorts pulling up and showing off her thighs. Pete couldn’t see Ricky nearly at all, but wide hands were splayed out on Esther’s bare shoulder blades where her shirt used to be.

Pete felt his dick twitch, and then he felt guilty, and then he reminded himself that they were doing this within full view of him so really whose fault was it.

One of Ricky’s hands disappeared to Esther’s front, and _oh_ that’s what she sounds like. Pete’s brain flashed between different scenarios; Ricky’s fingers rolling her nipples, Ricky’s hand brushing against the skin of her stomach, Ricky cupping her over her shorts, Ricky pushing past her waistband and… 

Pete forced himself to close his eyes, to stir in feigned sleep and make them aware of his presence again. Finally, sadly, Esther whispered something to Ricky that Pete couldn’t catch and then there was the shuffling of movement and padding of quiet footsteps and even quieter giggles.

When Pete opened his eyes again, he was alone and colder than ever.

“Oh,” Ricky says in the present, where he’s holding Pete firmly against him.

At the same time Esther says, “Shit.”

“I’m really sorry, Pete, we—”

“I promise we don’t usually do that, I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable—”

Ricky moves to let go of him but Pete whines in the back of his throat, and wraps his arm around Ricky’s to keep him there. “I wasn’t… Look, I’m not mad or anything. Just. Why didn’t you go in your room?”

From the way Esther is flicking her gaze back and forth between Ricky’s face and Pete’s, he knows Ricky is begging her to think of a response. “It’s okay if you _are_ mad,” she settles on. “We were really out of line, and just because we thought you were asleep doesn’t make it any better. It makes it worse, actually. I’m really sorry, Pete.”

“No, I, ugh,” Pete grumbles. “I’m not mad. I’m _jealous.”_

Esther sits further back, that look returning from earlier. “Jealous? Of who?”

Ricky’s arm tightens around his chest.

“Both of you,” Pete says. He’s blushing, probably, which is stupid. Pete the Plug doesn’t blush just like Ricky Matsui doesn’t pout, but he’s also not Pete the Plug anymore and Ricky _had been_ pouting. “I… I like you. Both of you. I want to date you. And _I_ don’t want to make _you_ uncomfortable but I couldn’t just fuckin’ let you keep going on not knowing that and having repeats of that night.”

Pete feels the moment Ricky’s breath catches in his chest, sees the moment Esther sucks her bottom lip into her mouth. The world goes very very still. Distantly, Pete is aware of a sunny-filled drug ad playing on the television.

“I thought he wasn’t ever going to admit it,” Esther says, to Ricky this time. She’s smirking, just enough to make something in Pete’s stomach stir.

Ricky’s gulp is audible in the stillness of the room. “We want to date you, too,” he says to Pete. “Or, well, I do. Esther?”

“Yeah, I do,” Esther’s still smirking and her expression is making Pete’s blood rush all sorts of places.

“You… what?”

“Pete, we don’t cuddle with Kingston on the couch.”

“Not that it’s a, er, romantic thing. We love having you as a friend,” Ricky says, hurriedly. “But, Esther’s right. You’re the only one invited to TV time.”

“Oh,” Pete feels like they might be pulling his leg, but then Esther shifts further, on her knees and leaning forward so she’s got one hand on the couch and one hand on Ricky’s shoulder, boxing Pete in.

“So, you want to date us? This is something you want?” She asks, double checking even as her words ghost over Pete’s lips.

“Yes.”

“We can go however slow or fast you want,” she continues. “Take you out to dinner first, do a pottery class, maybe—”

Pete surges forward and kisses her, hard. She groans, and sweeps her tongue into his mouth, pressing in even harder on her arms. Esther tastes like coffee and magic, and she feels like rereading a favorite book—comfortable and welcoming and just that little bit of danger to keep you wanting more. They kiss for a while, one of Pete’s hands still holding tightly onto Ricky’s arm and the other grabbing Esther’s waist.

Too soon, she pulls back and moves away, looking at Ricky over Pete’s shoulder, “C’mon, baby, your turn. He’s just as good at it as you thought he’d be.”

Pete has all of one second to blink and open his mouth to respond before he’s getting flipped over, Ricky manhandling him so that he’s horizontal and being pushed into the cushions of the couch and Jesus _fucking_ Christ, helloooo Mr. March.

For all of the force, Ricky is gentle, just like Pete knew he would be. He cups Pete’s cheek as he kisses him, and rubs a line across his cheekbone, and when he pulls away to let Pete catch his breath and regain his bearings Ricky is looking at him like he hung the moon. Pete groans, deep in his chest, and reaches up to fist a hand in Ricky’s hair—tugging his head back by his hair and baring the column of his throat.

“Fuck,” Ricky groans, which is just extremely hot, and Pete leans up to lick and suck at the skin of his neck.

Eventually, though, Ricky reaches up and pulls Pete’s hand away, holding it as he goes back to kissing him in that sweet, comforting way. Where Esther feels like coming home, Ricky _is_ home. He’s the comfort of familiar walls around you and someone to fall back on. He’s there under every breath, every beat of the heart. He’s hot, obviously, extremely, but he’s also soft and malleable under Pete’s hands and Pete is so far gone he’s practically lost at sea. There’s no hope of returning back to the before where Pete didn’t know what Ricky’s lips felt like when Ricky’s hands are touching him like that, when Ricky’s sliding his tongue just barely against Pete’s lips.

When Ricky pulls away this time, he’s panting and he’s got the most loving, dopey grin on his face. There’s some shuffling noises behind Pete, and then Esther is sliding closer and nestling Pete’s head in her lap and _holy shit_ her thighs are just as strong as they look, just as comfortable to be held by.

“They’re doing the house review,” Ricky says breathlessly, and Esther laughs and switches the volume back on.

On the TV, people gasp over a mudroom, but Pete’s just watching Ricky, watching how his mouth hangs slightly open as he looks at the show, watches how his arms flex where he’s still holding himself over Pete. He cranes his neck up to see Esther, too, and finds her already looking down at him, grinning.

“We should go out to dinner tonight, all three of us,” she says. “It can be our first date.”

“I’m going to need a nap and a shower first,” Ricky smiles, but there are definitely tired lines around his perfect eyes that aren’t usually there.

“We could do that together too,” Pete offers, and earns a full out Esther laugh and a surprised chuckle from Ricky.

“Speaking of, I’m glad to see the transmutation spell’s taken well,” Esther says and slides a hand between them, right to Pete’s inner thigh. _Oh._

“Yeah, well, haven’t actually gotten to try it out in action yet.” Pete’s breath is caught in his throat and he is kinda just now realizing that if he does have sex with Esther and/or Ricky it will be the first time he’s done so, ya know, with a dick, and that thought isn’t really helping him calm down.

“Dinner first,” Ricky says, but his eyes are slightly darker and Pete sees him swallow thickly. “We’ll go to the Greek place you like.”

Pete glances over at the television. The remodeled kitchen looks _fabulous,_ maybe he should move to Mississippi. Or. Not that. Maybe he shouldn’t move from this exact position on the couch, with Esther acting as his pillow and Ricky sort of crushing him in a sexy weighted blanket way. Maybe this is as good a place as any to grow old.

“It’s still the morning,” Pete complains instead of saying any of that. “Dinner is literally so far away.”

Ricky looks up and makes eye contact with Esther, “Okay, maybe just once before dinner.”

The TV gets turned off.

**Author's Note:**

> the show they're watching is hometown, i think it might be curing my depression. ANYWAY. have a great day/night, i'm on tumblr at [labelleofbelfastcity](https://labelleofbelfastcity.tumblr.com/) if you want to say hi and talk about d20!!


End file.
